Month: January 2016

This is going to be a patchy column – one that does not tell a story expressing a reasoned single line of thought. It will be disjointed, reading like a stream of consciousness. Maybe there is a connection, but does that really matter? At times I wonder whether in wanting to speak or write sensibly, we get so obsessed with making the correct, accurate, error-free argument, that the seed experience is lost. As human beings, we move emotionally from one space to another, taking time along, stringing together a life of experience. I hope this piece does the same.

Human sacrifice

When I read Rohith Vemula’s suicide note, I said to myself, “This is the most aesthetic expression on human conflict that I have ever come across” and I felt that instinctively in the most profound sense. It was not just the gut-wrenching, hard-hitting truth in the words of the note, but the larger philosophical imports that they carried.

Every word is real and tangible for millions around the world, the privileged and the unprivileged. It is not just about Rohith’s own mental state; it speaks to us about what it means for a person from the fringes of society’s borders to enter and reside within the heavily guarded fortress of the traditional insider.

Some come in and make it their life’s agenda to become like us, while a few hope to remain as they are, yet play our game. That is usually a losing battle. If you want to belong, you have to be a damned good actor. If not, you are the troublemaker, the one who is not grateful for the favours we have generously granted. To become one among the establishment you have to sacrifice yourself, purge a part of your being. The cost of erasing oneself is only paid by the individual.

When we put in rules, we want to keep the divergent out. We want only those who are just like us to come in – homogeneous excellence is what we call it. There are those other rules too – the unwritten, unsaid ones – that live within the darkest reaches of our mind, those that we use to assess people by colour, race, caste, age and gender.

The moment we meet someone, we are ticking or crossing many boxes in our minds. Do we really believe that the people being put through this word-less inquisition are unaware of this practice? They, on their part, manipulate our covert system by playacting the role to the best of their ability. When Rohith Vemula says there is no real love without hurt, is he speaking about this? Has this social order contributed to that emptiness he felt? Like he has said, has the value of a man been reduced to his immediate identity and nearest possibility? This is not just about Rohith, but about all those that need to negotiate the powers at the helm, be it the lower caste and classes, women or LGBT. We do not listen to people; we only offer freebies, concessions and favours since it is “our” image that matters.

Ritual sport

Can we tame the bull or not, ask many from the interiors of Tamil Nadu. But we ask a second question: is it a just, equal fight? And then go on to dictate the rules of the game. No hurting the bull, forcing rods into its anus, stuffing alcohol down its throat or blowing chilli powder into its eyes. That it how it was in the past, exclaim the elders. This is our culture, a traditional ritual of masculinity with socio-economic relevance. It is its present commercialised version that has made this “culturally rich contest” an act of violence.

But who created and proliferated these commercial monsters? We did. The same ones who today find the sport ghastly and the participants uncivilised. When we, with sound liberal reasons oppose the idea of banning beef and do not object to the idea of Halal, can we argue that jallikattu even in its old avatar is barbaric? Can we afford to overlook the contradiction in opposing jallikattu and forgetting that numerous membranophones such as the tabla and mrdangam use the skin of goats, cows and buffaloes? Should we ban them since they are constructed for aesthetic pleasure and not sustenance? Let us be aware of the reality in all its nuances.

Where, how and who draws these lines? It is social power consortiums. They exist across institutional bodies. Therefore the judge, the administrative office, politician, the elite upper caste rarely pass judgements taking into consideration the complexities that force a contestation between cultural heritage and animal protection; it is their own socio-strata driven morality that guides action.

Conversations on animal rights and cultural traditions must emanate without the compulsion to establish power or control over society. We must ignore the whisperers who cloud our mind. There is no perfect road or approach; it is another quest for direction, not necessarily resolution. We can nevertheless choose a path of enquiry that is not about ourselves, that which seeks a rediscovery of a cultural core rooted in ethical living – a cohabitation that is not stuck in false dichotomies such as the cruel jallikattu aficionado versus the compassionate animal activist.

Transformation?

And then there are people like me, today’s privileged active liberal. Not too long ago, many of us were very different people, unconcerned about the others, with one clear and solid goal in life: making it big, larger than life. And for me that was becoming star musician. I dreamt of auditoriums brimming with people jostling for space just to get a glimpse of me, hoping to hear one line of a raga through my voice. I was intoxicated, always in an inebriated state that engulfed me even more once I attained that coveted position. I was far removed from the realities around, even within my own functional circle. I was not ignorant, just plain insensitive. I may not have pushed people over but a “second person nudge” was not beyond my reach. I saw relationships change, become bitter, but there was always a justification.

But I seem to have changed. Today, I speak for hours and write pages about equality, humanity and beauty. I am not the same person. Or am I? Is all this also about achieving another goal, to be known and perceived as a reformer, liberal, deeply thoughtful human being. Are all the words real to me, or are they substance-less sounds suspended in vacuum? Are they said to fulfil my own selfish need to sound socially and politically aligned with the people I want to be seen with? In the process whom am I now pushing on to the pavement? Whom am I not listening to? Maybe I have just not changed one bit, it is still all about me…and has always been that way.

We have constructed relationships with people and the planet on the basis of self-gratification. This includes satisfying all that we want from the various circles of relationships; the personal, social, economic and political. Goodness is a favour, your use is defined by my culture and my rules are always for my betterment – if you join the bandwagon you will benefit.

But if we want to seek a dialogue, we need to ask the following questions. Can there be giving which is not about “me” giving? Can there be a debate on animal rights that is neither based on our own cultural mooring or modern notions of animal welfare? And can a discourse on the subaltern not begin with condescension? If we truly can, then there is hope that someday we will experience the stardust in all of creation.

As the new year dawned, Justice S Vaidyanathan’s prescribed dress code for Hindus visiting temples came into force in Tamil Nadu. These were new rules, amounting to an “apparel law”. The “ruled” attire for men visiting temples, hereafter, is a shirt with pants or upper cloth with pyjamas or a dhoti, while women are to be in a sari, half sari or a churidhar with upper cloth. For children, the law is “any fully covered dress”. The order and the concept of an order on such a matter have been difficult enough to accept. But for me, what has been an uncomfortable reality is the fact that Hindus have more or less accepted this diktat, and find it most appropriate.

Dress codes as such are not new. “Customs and traditions,” according to the 1947 Tamil Nadu Temple Entry Authorisation Act, determine entry permissions. Temples in Kerala, for instance, enforce the rule that men need to be bare-chested and women are expected to wear a mundu.

Though the rules are directed towards all devotees, it is clear from the details that the target is the modern woman. It is more than obvious that all of these conditions are intrinsically misogynistic, further establishing the sexist notion of “distracting” women. This court order is no doubt another enforcement of puritanical notions set in place by one gentleman.

Determining what’s appropriate

“Common” people have spoken up in justification of the words. The words in their statements supporting this order include “sanctity” and “modesty”, both only reiterating my understanding of the situation. All this brings to mind moving pictures from mythological Tamil films, of the pure and saintly Vishwamitra being lured by the seductress Menaka, dressed in a shimmering tightly-fitted dress highlighting her physical attributes. We often hear Pravachanakars turn these stories into metaphors, but even there the woman is the corrupter.

The fear is that unless there are rules in place, women would enter temples wearing “all kinds of odd clothes” such as shorts, mini-skirts and other Western clothes. These, it is presumed, will arouse the baser instincts in “poor, vulnerable men” and violate the sanctity of the place. Borne out of twisted traditional ideas of sexual control and violence, this is indeed an extension of the commonly held belief that women who “expose themselves” invite rape and molestation.

The 1947 Act referring to customs and traditions is against equality, which is the basic spirit of our Constitution. Almost every tradition and custom is a combination of patriarchy, caste and class. There is no doubt that the practice of men entering the sanctum without an upper cloth is at least in part linked to caste discrimination. In interior villages, even today we see lower caste men remove their loosely knotted headgear while speaking to a person of higher caste or class. If we do not question these cultural hangovers, how do we ensure equality? Therefore, to allow every temple to prepare its own set of guidelines according to its own traditions is no different from uppity clubs demanding that individuals are allowed only in shoes.

But what is “appropriate”, and how does one determine this? This is the difficult question that does not have a “right” answer. But let us step back further. What is our relationship with our bodies and sexuality? Enforced morality is borne out of our inability to embrace ourselves as sexual beings with intense desires that transcend the boundaries of socially created relationships. To avoid this emotional turbulence, we have “attired order” among other things. But the matter is not so simple, entangled in this are more complex barbed wires.

The man is seen as the uncontrollable sexual machine and by the laws of nature is corruptible. The woman exists to satisfy “his” needs and aware of his inherent weakness, a conniving enticer. When people speak of distraction in the context of the temple, they are referring to this entrapment that women are said to practice, whether by design or not being beside the point. And, therefore, clothing control is a tool to rein in the provocative woman and support the weak man.

Role of religion

Where does religion fit into all this? God is the perfect mechanism to establish this very idea and religious organisations across cultures play that role perfectly. Therefore, it is no surprise that we want to remove any idea of sexuality from the precincts of the temple, even though sculpted voluptuous women stare at us at every turn. Women being titillated by the carved broad shouldered, muscled dvarapalakas are of course of no consequence.

Ritual practices within the temple celebrate sex, but we should remember that sexual desire among the gods is pure while that which happens between homosapiens is neech. The tragedy is that this canvas is a creation of the powerful male (not gender-specific) who has altered the images at different times to suit his own convenience.

The larger issue is therefore far removed from the temple itself. What we have failed to create is a society where we respect our bodies and build relationships on trust, an environment where sexual desire is not suppressed and placed on the lowest step of nature, but absorbed into the understanding of each other irrespective of gender. Instead, we have made the woman the physically weak sexual object who provides pleasure to the insatiable man. And religion is one mechanism through which we manipulate her. I do not see any sanctity in this construction.

It is the same faith that we need in human interactions that should guide our relationship with god, and this bond will naturally determine how we present ourselves to him or her – not what men believe is appropriate or comfortable in their eyes. We stand before Rama, Kamakshi or Siva in a rapture that is as much about our own physical self, as it is about our belief. We admire Nataraja for the exquisite sexual imagery that human creativity bestowed upon him and surrender to the cosmic strength he gives us. This all-encompassing experience is the temple.

Varying degrees

Such controls are not confined to Hinduism. Islam and Christianity have their own customs and practices with regard to personal attire. I was once given a harsh shelling by a woman from the Islamic faith about the hijab. She convincingly argued that in every society, it is the man who determines the amount of skin that a woman can reveal, and therefore the hijab gives her the ability to take control of her body and deprive man of his control and consequently pleasure.

But what seems like a strong feminist statement ignores the fact the enforcement of the hijab is borne out of misogyny. There are enough cases of women being forced to wear the hijab by their families. Free will itself is not at all that liberated, and it high time we understand this nuance. And here I must say this: we the “majority Hindus” in this country constantly speak about the hijab as an oppressive tool, forgetting that Hinduism forces similar conditionalities on women in the form of the ghunghat, metti, and mangal sutra. There is also the unquestioningly accepted practice that menstruating women should not enter the temple. These are all abusive in nature, it is only the degrees that vary.

While the Acharyas, Mullahs, and other priests and judges are busy demanding sexual propriety, they ignore the class discriminations that choice of attire brings forth. No one seems to care that people flaunt the most expensive and branded clothes at the temple and create unfair comparison, jealousy, sadness and discrimination. The sight of legs affects us much more.